Nevermore
by Glamagirl
Summary: John needed to let him go, the only problem was that he didn't know how to do it.


**A/N**: Not a happy story, I'm warning you. Anyway, this is yet another recycled short story, hope you like anyways…

**XxXxXxX**

John was already awake when the distinctive sound of someone knocking on his door disrupted the sepulchral silence that reigned in his obscure bedroom.

He didn't bother to get up to see who it was though; it didn't matter, he knew who it wasn't and if it wasn't him he just didn't care.

The only thing that he wanted was to be left alone.

That was why he remained in bed, frozen, immobile… numb; his colored blue eyes closed in hope that an eternal sleep would take over him so he could forever dream about him. That was the only thing that he could do, dream; dream and remember… remember and hope.

Sometimes, when he lay in bed between being awake but rapidly drifting to sleep he could feel him… he could feel the phantom of his fingers on his face, caressing him to sleep as he mumbled sweet nothings in his ear.

Those where the moments he cherished the most and the ones his heart desperately craved for; because when the thin line of reality blended with the memory of him, it felt as if he was actually there with him.

In those moments of questionable lucidity, John could even drink in the scent of him lingering around. He could feel his lips on him, his hands on him and it was only in those moments, when sleep was taking him in when he could feel his fingers running down his cheeks, soothing all his sorrows away.

John only lived only for those moments now, because every time he felt his presence in that room with him he found peace. He found solace in the memory of him, in the phantom of his touch and even in the way his face would appear to him behind closed eyes; his smile broad and contagious as his olive green eyes pierced him with all their intensity.

So yeah, he lived only for those moments because it all felt so real; it felt as if he had never left him all alone and broken, not even the shell of the man he had been when he had his love.

Now the only thing he had to hold on were those brief moments where he couldn't fully have him, those moments where he could feel him lingering around even though he knew he was not there.

Biting hard on his trembling lips, John crushed into him chest the shirt that had been accompanying him through the last few days; it was one of his shirt.

As he did that, he heard the door being opened and soon after tentative steps echoed all through the room; but still, John remained in bed, unmoving.

Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Couldn't they understand? Ah… but it was his fault for telling them where he was. Now they would come and go as they pleased; Randy, Eve and sometimes even Matt, all of them with a mysterious key that John didn't know where they got.

None of them would leave him alone and quietly honestly he was getting tired of it.

Swallowing hard but refusing to open his eyes, John felt this new presence sitting in the bed next to him, the mattress sinking under the unwanted weight.

"Hey…"

The former WWE champion didn't respond, not even when he felt a hand on his temples and then just subtly caressing his cheek.

"John, what's wrong? Why don't you talk to me?"

The words were kind and full of worry but it was not the voice he wanted to hear. The voice he wanted to hear had the power of a thousand men, the touch he wanted to feel the only one that could alleviate the pain that has taken residence deep inside of him.

But that was never going to be, his voice had been silenced, his touch stilled and all of him was… a nevermore. At the thought of that, he felt tears forming behind his closed eyelids and he had to bite hard on his lips as an effort not to cry.

"Talk to me. We are all worried about you."

The Massachusetts own shook his head no; he didn't want to talk about it because they would never understand. His pain was a burden he had to carry on his own.

_'My grief lies all within, and these external manners of lament are merely shadows to the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortured soul'_

"Is this… is this because of Phil?"

John opened his clouded eyes at the mention of that name. It felt wrong coming from the woman's lips, a desecration of something divine… it sent a pang of pain straight into his broken heart.

"Phil?" He sat up and looked at the brunette that was sitting on his bed. Phil… he had call for him so many times, most of the times in his sleep. But he never came, he never would.

"You have been like this ever since…"

"You don't know anything." John said while a single tear slipped down his face. "You don't even understand."

"Then tell me, I want to know so I can help you." His friend pleaded, her hands getting a hold of his cold ones.

At the request, John looked away, up to the ceiling where he was sure that Eve wouldn't be able to tear the truth out of his eyes; but when tried to take a deep breath to calm down he choked on it and started to sob, his unspoken grief getting the best of him.

Without saying a word and not even looking shocked at the fact that John Cena just broke down and was now crying in her arms, Eve hugged him as tight as she could, allowing him to let the pain of the past three days flow out of him in huge torrents.

"I love him." John admitted between sobs. "I loved him so much and he left me, Eve… he left me."

Now, that was the first time that John admitted such a feeling to anyone who wasn't the man himself; after all in their candid affair everything was all shared secrets between the two of them.

But that wasn't all, they shared more than secrets. They shared their love, their dreams… they shared a bond that was forever going to link them together, or so he thought.

"John… I don't know what to say, I didn't know. I mean I knew this was affecting you but I didn't know how much."

Of course she didn't know, no one did. To everyone around they were nothing more than colleagues, each living their lives happily apart. So no, no one knew about their love, or about the way they always tried to extend the brief moments they managed to steal away from life.

No one knew about how they were each other's escape.

Feeling a bit ashamed at the fact that he was showing his weakness, John sniffed and disentangled himself from his friend's arms. But then, before he could help it his mouth was pouring out what his heart has been keeping away.

"You don't know how it feels to know… that I never had the chance to say goodbye… I just… I just wish I had and it hurts that I didn't."

Swallowing down and trying to keep his tears away, John remembered the last time he saw him. They had met in one of the clandestine hotel rooms that were the only witness to their undying love and they spent the entire night together, a night he would forever hold close to his heart.

That night Phil has been his regular self, playful, passionate; he had been his for the last time. Just like he wanted to remember him.

"What am I going to do now? What am I going to do without him?"

That was a question he had been asking himself a lot because the truth was that he didn't know; he was nothing without him and he found himself to be lost now that he wasn't with him.

"Look at me, John." Eve took his face in her hands and looked straight into his eyes. "You are a strong man, and you'll get over this."

"No, I won't." How was he ever getting over this? Over him? How could he keep going on knowing that he was never to hear his voice again?

God, if he had known what was going to happen he would have hold him close to him to never let him go. Maybe if he had done that he wouldn't have to wait for those moments between being awake and asleep to feel him.

How he wished he could turn back time, if he could he would turn back to that last night, to hold him tighter, to kiss him deeper… to hold on in that moment forever.

"Yes you will. Look, I wish I had the words to make all your pain go away but I don't, no one has them and if they do I would rip them out of their tongues to say them to you. But it really breaks my heart to see you like this so if there's anything you would like me to do just tell me."

"He were going to be together forever" He said absentmindedly. But now their plans of living a life together was never going to get fulfilled; their plans flew with the wind like sand. Destiny had robbed them of their happiness, life had cheated on them.

"You can still say your goodbyes, the service is tomorrow; Matt and I are going together; maybe you should come with us."

John shook his head sadly; he was not going to the service. There was no way he was going to see his lifeless body in a coffin; no way he was going to pull through that one.

How could he? To see the hands that were never going to touch him, the lips that were never going to smile that rare smile at him, that were never going to kiss him… no… he couldn't do it, he wasn't going to.

"I can't go there." He admitted and he almost choked the word out. Just how was he supposed to come to terms with the fact that the love of his life, the only man that has been able to make him truly happy was robbed early of his life at the hands of a drunk driver?

It still made him mad and he hoped the bastard would root in hell; God knew she would kill him with his bare hand if he had the strength to do it, but he didn't.

All he could do is lay in that bed and think about him.

"Phil would have liked you to be there."

"Phil would have hated that they were making a service for him."

With that said, John pulled away, his hand automatically resting over the mattress while blinking his tears away.

"Well I still think you should come to the service with us."

The tall man shook his head again in denial. He was already determined not to go, he didn't want the last image of him to be the one of him laying inside a casket. He wanted to remember him laughing and with his eyes sparkling; he wanted to guard the memory of him as he had been in life… when he had been his behind closed doors.

Maybe after all the commotion passed away, he would go and visit away his grave or something. He could get a few comics and read to him; yeah, if Phil would have liked something, it would be that.

But not now, he needed to let him go first… he needed to accept that he was not going to be there anymore; that he would never be able to run his fingers through that careless black hair he came to love so much and that Phil was never again going to fake being crabby that he would do that.

Then, when he could learn how to live with his absence, he could go and say his goodbyes.

In the meanwhile, he was going to wait for those moments where his favorite smartass would come to him right before he drifted to sleep…

~*Fin*~


End file.
